One of these days
by YanaGoya
Summary: Carson's day goes wrong on many levels in a very evil way. Mildly kinky, chair!pr0n, surprisex, MxM, badly written. Ronon X Carson, The Control Chair X Carson.


**Disclaimer: **Not mine. For the best.  
**Title: **One of these days  
**Rating: **R  
**Pairing:** Control Chair/Carson, Ronon/Carson**  
Author's Note:** I am not a writer. It just happened. I take no blame.

* * *

In the end, it was his own damn fault, Carson thought. He should've run – and he did that, yes, but he should have never stopped. Hall is a public place; people walk in halls, so you do not make out or grope anyone there. He actually had an upper hand – heard Rodney before the physicist could spot Carson, quickly left the lab – only to walk into a couple of marines plastered all over each other. Kissing. Mouths touching, hands on other's body, feeling, searching. The scene made him stop in his track and stare, trying to suppress the sharp pang of something unpleasant and close to envy. How long has it been...? No, Carson told himself, he was not going there. Nor he's going further, because that's a very private moment, he would never, he couldn't… So with a sigh he turned back and went to face the worst ending of this long, long day.

Rodney grinned and waved with a meaningful "I've been looking everywhere for you, Carson!". And thus Carson was in The Control Chair and things have gone very, very wrong.

The shower. It was all Carson wanted. Nice, warm shower, no more stitching, no more listening to every second person complain, no more explaining why eating off-world food is bad unless you're a fan of stomach ache, no more laptop - cheeky little bugger wouldn't work right, no more staring at wraith cells – no more anything. Shower, and sleep. But no. Of course not, life's never that simple. Of course he had to see something that would fill his tired mind with images he seriously didn't want to deal with right now. Images that made concentrating on the blasted Chair beyond difficult.

- Carson, you're not even trying! – Annoyed voice of Rodney McKay's hit his brain not much unlike a brick. Carson winced and cracked one eye open.

- You've done this before. I'm not asking anything impossible. Just activate the Chair, I'll run the diagnostics, five minutes, you off, we all happy.

- Why again Major… Colonel Sheppard couldn't do it? – Carson murmured out of sheer habit, his resignation clear in a heavy sigh.

- Stop talking and wasting everyone's time. Just do it!

Sighing again, he closed his eyes and cleared his mind. Tried to at least. Thought 'on'. The Chair obviously took pity on him – accompanied by a low sound he was lowered back, starting familiarly – Carson could never figure whether the damn thing would work or not.

- Good, good, - came McKay's voice, - now don't move and keep it on.

Carson forced his body to relax. His back hurt – no doubt from five hours of slouching in front of the computer. The table was too low, the seat too high and… not really an excuse, but the result remained. His hands hurt. The new supplies brought from Earth – naturally mostly heavy boxes – they spent half of yesterday moving them from one closet to another. He didn't really have to help, but he couldn't just stand there and watch. So he helped. And now he was in pain. He really could use a massage. Man can dream…

Carson yelped as everything started to shake – his body momentarily tried to go for a jerk, but decided it required too much effort. Plus, the shaking… his body liked the shaking. And while Carson, wide-eyed and perfectly spooked, was panicking and looking around – his body slumped into The Chair. Very willingly.

There is a first time for everything, they say.

- What the hell did you do? – Rodney was nervously circling The Chair, typing rapidly on the date pad.

Carson glared, suddenly annoyed.

- That's my line. Are we having an earthquake?

Rodney stopped and looked up, wearing his best 'huh?' expression.

- What?.. No, no, it's The Chair. It's vibrating.

- It is?..

'The massage', flashed in Carson's mind. No way, he thought. Since when this bleeding thing is so nice? Bugger this, since when it could do something like that? But it did feel like a massage. He could already feel his muscles loosening. Even the rigidity wasn't discomforting.

-Carson, what did you do?

-Haven't done anything. – He squinted at Rodney, unsure if he should tell him that The Control Chair of Atlantis was giving him a backrub. McKay would certainly tell him to get out of it, to test it himself, and Carson was quite positive he didn't want to. He severely disliked the damn thing, but right now his back felt nice and light and very happy, and maybe they could go for a short truce there…

- Are you registering anything strange? – He asked.

McKay went over the readings and frowned.

- No, but…

- Finish what you were doing then, Rodney. – Carson interrupted, - I want to go to sleep and not worry about having to come back here tomorrow.

That earned him unsure and somewhat suspicious glance, but as McKay looked at data and found nothing out of ordinary, he just shrugged and muttered about going over the readings later - to find out what caused the vibration, because something must've and…

Carson stopped listening.

Seriously.

A backrub. And a bloody nice one at that.

His mind wandered as the tension left his body, replaced by enveloping heaviness. Carson was very sure he shouldn't fall asleep in The Chair. So he went over his research, the details of his to-do medical reports, the tiny little and seemingly impossible to be resolved problem that stalled his retro-virus work. It was something he thought over and over – today, the day before - and through the fuzziness his brain very clearly refused to do that again. Instead, it leaped back to the previous events. The hall. The making out. Hands.

Carson frowned and wriggled in the Chair. The warmth that sparkled all of a sudden beneath his stomach was… very out of place right now. He ordered himself to stop thinking about anything of sexual nature, but as it always goes, that only brought up all the thoughts, memories and fantasies he was trying to get away from.

No, no, no, no, no.

Not going there, not now.

Yet the unwilling, but oh-so sweet recollection of Ronon's naked body – the way he saw it accidentally on one of Atlantis' piers just a couple of days ago – completely soaked, water flowing down as the man have thrown himself out of the ocean in one long thrust, glowing in blazing sunset… And the 'thrust' was so not the best choice of words ever and at once Carson knew he really, really needed to get to his quarters.

-Are we done, Rodney? I don't feel so good, I need to go… - And he proceeded to get up without even waiting for the reply of a very not-there McKay who was very engrossed in his readings and very much didn't hear Carson say a word – only to find out that he couldn't move. His brain tried the process this information – without much luck. That wasn't right.

Glancing down at himself, Carson was absolutely not amused and somewhat mortified to see multiple straps wrapped around his whole body. His wrists, elbows, thighs, ankles, even his stomach – all the parts of him were successfully pinned to The Chair by wide bluish strips – tight enough not to leave any space for movement, yet putting no pressure at all.

That was new, that was very confining, and Carson did not like it.

- Rodney!!! – The distress in his voice was enough to attract McKay's attention.

- Wha… oh. – McKay blinked at him, glanced down at the data and stared back at the biologist.

- What did you do NOW? – Rodney's surprise fast turned into annoyance.

- I didn't do anything! – Carson practically shouted back, and then he felt it.

Something was working underneath him. Something - some kind of mechanism, he could tell, by shifting and soft friction perceptible even through the vibration of The Chair.

The tearing of a material came next.

It took him moments – long, thorough moments of terrified denial – to realize what the material was.

Something just cut through his pants.

His tired brain was very active at once. Carson was unsure of what was going to happen – and he so wasn't sticking to find out, he decided. 'Off', he commanded. Jerked up, with no result. 'Off'. 'Off'. 'OFF!!!'.

You can't be panicking too much, never.

- Rodney… get me out of here NOW. – Carson heard his own voice sound calm, for some reason.

- What? Why? What is… Is anything wrong? – McKay was typing madly, jumping from one device to another.

Another tearing.

God.

And a ghosting touch on Carson's skin, on the skin of his it would seem very bare now ASS.

The implication – no, it didn't hit him, but the instincts acted up, and with a river of cursing Carson started fighting in his bindings.

Several minutes later he gave up, gasping; all his strength wasn't enough to loosen the straps even for a little bit.

- Rodney, GET ME OUT! – Carson gave up on any courtesy, the situation certainly wasn't inclining.

- Carson, what's going on? – McKay, looking quite lost, gathered that something was very wrong and was poking buttons - with no seeming result, though.

-Out, Rodney! Shut down the damn Chair!

-I can't, I can't, it won't shut down!!!

-Rodney, I swe… - and then Carson choked on the word as something cold and slick slipped right up between his buttocks.

The situation was bizarre. He was still in Atlantis Control Chair – but he was pretty much chained onto it, and there was something pressed between his nates - slowly rotating, it was making him wet as if preparing…

_Holy crap._

It finally downed with crystal clarity. Carson stared into space, shocked, as words formed sentences in his mind – The Chair. Is Going. To. Fuck. Me.

As if responding to a command he never made, The Chair gave one sensible jolt - that somehow raised up a wave of tickling heat though his whole body – and then something that was there was going up, entering him with overwhelming ease despite him clenching up reflexively, filling... No pain, no revulsion, but the fact itself was mind-numbing. The most he could manage at this time was breathing. His eyes were shut tight, finger pressing into glowing arms of The Chair to a point of pain - and he made no attempt to stiffen the long, loud moan escaping his lips. The moan turned into harsh cry as the intruding object hit the sweet spot – his body shuddered, unprepared for a surge of pleasure that rushed up. Carson's head hit The Chair's panel.

That was the moment Rodney finally realized things got out of hands and shouted for help. Whatever was happening – and he had no idea what it was – was obviously making Carson suffer. Carson stopped responding to his promptings a while ago, but he still hoped he could deactivate The Chair. The situation had worsened, and he couldn't help it. He started giving a real-fast explanation as soon as Weir, Zelenka and Sheppard ran in along with several marines.

It wasn't much listened to, as newly arrived members of atlantian expedition gaped at a scene in front of them.

Doctor Beckett, tied up – or rather tied onto The Chair – was rhythmically jerking, his face set into a deeply - it would seem - pained expression. Panting, sweating, moaning – he was biting his lower lip to muffle the sounds, and the moans were coming out more as sobs or hoarse yelps.

- I don't know what went wrong – but – what are you staring at him for, do something, he's in pain!

Pain.

Carson let out an intense cry, his head dropping down – hair, dump with sweat, went flat and were shaking in tact with jolts.

A shadow of recognition passed at the back of Elisabeth's mind. She didn't quite grasp it, but some part of her felt instinctive embarrassment, and she looked around the room, noting that even more people flooded in there – until her eyes singled out Ronon's face.

The Runner was staring at Carson – gaze so intense that it sent a shiver up Dr. Weir's spine. Dex was breathing in – deeply through his nose, as if sniffing something – his pose strained, every single muscle working…

And then Elizabeth understood.

-Everyone, out!

Her voice cut the whispering and the chatter, and many confused faces turned to her, but she had no time – nor desire – to explain.

-Out! NOW!

Attempted objections were vastly overruled. The room cleared up in a matter of seconds. Rodney tried to insist that it was his fault and he was bound to stay – but growling 'get out' from Ronon provided a resolution well enough.

-I'll take care of Doc. – Dex sounded husky, and it made Weir uncertain, but for now… for now, she honestly wasn't' sure what to make of this all. As she stepped out and watched the door close, she sincerely hoped she wasn't wrong.

Carson felt his mind getting very lost. Each powerful thrust took him to levels of sensations he had never experienced before. He could've sworn he came at least a dozen times by now. But the final release wouldn't come – all he could do was melting into pleasure over and over, trying to at least remember his own name.

Here and there, he had flashes. Flashes that made everything worse in any possible sense - pleasure got stronger, his longing got stronger, more painful. Flashes of arms wrapped around him, lips on his lips, body moving against his…

Ronon.

His lips moaned the name.

And then he was being kissed, a tongue in his mouth, hot, demanding, exploring – and it was real, so very real… Carson's eyes flew open.

He stared into familiar eyes – the ones he just now saw in his mind.

-Ronon… lad, what are you?.. – He managed between panting and moaning, voice shaking, but at least audible.

Ronon hugged him.

Gasping, Carson admitted to himself that his day just got even stranger. Despite the total impossibility.

-I am not blind, Doc. You keep tempting… you look, and… and I can't. Can't anymore.

Carson had troubles recollecting events from this point on. His mouth was occupied, his pants unfastened, a hand wrapped around him and soon he was having shattering, blinding orgasm of his life. He saw stars - along with some other things he'd rather not remember. And passed out. Manly.

Once awaken, he swore on everything he treasured he'd never be getting into The Chair again.

McKay… well. McKay could disconnect the ZetPM. But as he rushed to do so, he made a fascinating discovery. The power levels in ZetPM – were rising. Literally. No doubt as a result of whatever was happening in the control room. So he just sat here and watched and marvelled at a completely recharged ZetPM. Carson was finally getting some, ZetPM was all shiney and new, Rodney was happy. A day, all in all, was good.

**End.**


End file.
